Her arms

Two are the arms, the deathless armours of love
To cove the dying souls from the stabs of fear;
Ecstasy's rain from the cloudless source above
They bring, the rock of massive pain to tear.

At each hush-gap with stupendous bliss they declare,
"O marvel seraphs of Mother's immaculate Breath,
Decreed are you to rise, to wing, to dare
And march across the giant breast of Death."